This Year's Girl
by princessoffireskies
Summary: So, the family reunion is over, and it's time to board the Hogwarts Express! And exactly how different will Hogwarts be with Harry's teenage Aunt and her two friends in tow? Sequel to The Fifth Marauder, Part II in the Ripple Effect series.
1. UnNewsWorthy News

**DISCLAIMER:** Hi. I'm not JK Rowling. As such, I don't own Harry Potter and friends. Hi, I'm not Joss Whedon. As such, I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and friends. I do however own Nix, and a few more O.C.s who will pop up sooner or later (I'm fed up of them all bouncing 'round in my head waiting to be written in to a story.)

**THIS DISCLAIMER STANDS FOR THE ENTIRE STORY.**_ Trust me, if I somehow end up owning one or the other, you will know about it. In the form of a long, squeal-y author's note. But that's just not going to happen, is it?_

~ FireSkies_  
_

LOST POTTER SIBLING HEADS FOR HOGWARTS!

By Henrietta Appleby, senior reporter for the Daily Prophet.

The long hoped-for return of the missing Potter sisters takes a new step this morning, as young Dawn Potter, aunt to our own Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, steps onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Miss Potter, seventeen, will be joining the current seventh years to sit her NEWTs at the famous wizarding school and spending her first year in full time magical education.

Since returning to us, Miss Potter and two of her close friends, Connor Aurelius, and Nicholas Selva, both eighteen, have sat their OWLs and sixth year examinations deep in the Ministry of Magic, each sitting all available subjects. According to our source in the Department of Magical Education and Children, all three passed with flying colours, and received top grades across the board. Other, more public, turning points in the Potter sisters' triumphant re-entry to Wizarding society included their adoption of their nephew, Harry Potter, their joint claim of the family Wizengamot seat, and numerous clear demonstrations that despite fourteen long years of absence, the Potters are still a force to be reckoned with in our world.

In the press conference following the announcement, the current Head of House Potter, Elizabeth, sister to the late James Potter, laid down her plans to reinstate the power of the family name, and in the view of this humble reporter, she has most certainly been successful. Along with her sister's exemplary results, she has already held meetings with the businesses owned by the family, reinstated several funds set up by her great-grandfather for the Ministry of Magic, and created a generous new fund direct for St Mungo's. Obviously, Miss Elizabeth Potter learned the nuances of family management at her father's feet along with her twin brother, as the typically altruistic and well-mannered family creed is in evidence in her dealings. Not to mention the rapid turn in public opinion of Harry Potter, and the family's unhesitating support for Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, has seen public feeling look more favourably upon the wizard who taught so many of us.

And as for young Miss Potter's companions on her journey to Hogwarts? Neither of them was known to the Wizarding community or the Ministry before their applications for special examinations arrived, and on the surface they appear to be friends from the sisters' time in hiding. However, your faithful Daily Prophet reporter has done her research, and can give exclusive details on the boys' backgrounds.

It would seem that Mr. Aurelius's surname is more telling than we first thought, as he is in fact the only living member of the powerful Vampiric sect, the Order of Aurelius. How this miraculous turn of events occurred, I cannot say, however it is definite that he was born in Los Angeles, California, as the only son of the current Head of the local branch of the notorious law firm, Wolfram & Hart: the vampire Angel, formerly Angelus, part of the Scourge of Europe. Judging by his affiliation with the Potter family, one can only assume that the young scion of the Aurelian line is not following in his elders' murderous footsteps and instead taking a more respectable path. The vampire line he is born of is famed as the most powerful in the vampiric world, and is supposedly composed of turned Wizards, a tale that may explain Mr. Aurelius's magical ability. Whatever the truth, it is the fervent hope of this reporter that Mr. Aurelius follows the right path, as the world would hate to see the Potters betrayed once more.

Nicholas Selva, also, has an unusual history. Supposedly, the young man is one of the Shadow-walkers, a race of whom little is known about, and at least half of the information is hearsay. Apparently, this secretive race has legendary power, although their leanings are completely unknown, including the natural ability to move between the shadows, a skill not unlike Apparation. My research indicates that Mr. Selva's upbringing was unsettled, as he first appears in New York, then Ireland, and then in Southern California. Perhaps this is our clearest hint to the so-far unrevealed location of Elizabeth and Dawn Potter these long years? Both of Dawn Potter's friends have links to Southern California – could Harry Potter's aunts have been living in America all these years?

Whatever the whole truth, I wish Miss Potter, her nephew and friends the best of luck in this coming school year – we are all watching with baited breath!

Dawn crumpled the newspaper in her hand, tossing it onto the table of the carriage, her own face waving up at her from the cover. Harry raised his eyebrows at her from across the way, and she replied to the unasked question:

"It's honestly pathetic that my going to Hogwarts is front page news. There's a crazed megalomaniac on the loose, in case they haven't noticed."

The occupants laughed at the flippant remark, before Hermione scooped up the creased paper, smoothed it out and read the article, her forehead crinkling into a frown as her eyes flicked across the page.

"They're talking about your history, though," she commented, somewhat worriedly, looking at Nix and Connor. The four Council residents, along with the four Weasleys and Hermione were all in the carriage, Ginny having rescued the paper from Grimmauld Place that morning.

"In how much detail?" Nix asked, concern colouring his aristocratic features.

"They know Connor's descended from the Order of Aurelius, and that you're one of the Shade – though not your exact heritage," Hermione answered, scanning the paper once more.

"Nothing too serious, then," Connor nodded, leaning back in his seat, "they would have found all that out easily, and it's fairly hard to hide. So long as that's all they know, we needn't worry."

"Anyway, hate to leave you, but we have work to do," Nix added, looking around. The three supernatural teens gathered their belongings and left the compartment, heading for the reserved one at the back of the train. As they stepped through, they heard the twins offering a similar excuse, and spotted two younger teens making a beeline for the emptying compartment. As they walked down the corridor of the train, they were aware of curious faces peering out of compartments at them, and Nix made use of their enhanced hearing by muttering under his breath: "Do you think we should wave?" gaining muffled laughter from his two companions.

Then again, given the article in the Prophet, he could hardly be surprised by their new schoolmates reactions. It was easy to discern who they were – with Dawn in the lead, and the two boys following, one at either shoulder. One thing he'd be interested to know was how many had guessed himself and Connor the right way round, as the paper hadn't managed to get a picture of them all together. Luckily, they were making good use of the patented 'mission walk' all the Scoobies had developed, meaning no one quite dared call out to them as they passed swiftly down the line of carriages. Eventually, the same group reached the end carriage, and Dawn opened the door with the neat little RESERVED sign. They each unceremoniously dropped their trunks by the door, flopping gracefully onto the cushioned seats.

"So, boarding school," Connor said, wrinkling his nose.

"Isn't just school enough of a new experience to you?" Nix asked, feigning innocence. Before the half-vampire could reply, Dawn interrupted, saying calmly:

"Now, boys, don't fight. United front, and all that?"

Both scowled, looking away from each other, and she continued, softly:

"Guys, I know I joke about you not being physically incapable of getting on, but the truth is you can, you just like sniping at each other. So either learn to switch it to teasing, or just stop. I need you both ready, not at each others' throats."

The two boys relaxed, offering silent apologies to the other, and forming a truce of sorts.

"I knew I shouldn't have adopted 'Aurelius' as my surname," Connor muttered, remembering the article, "It's too much of a hint – hell, it's not a hint, it's a massive, flashing sign."

"Yeah, but did you really want people calling you 'Mr. Angel'?" Dawn countered, resting her feet on the opposite seat.

"Suppose not," he conceded, leaning against the window.

"Anyway, the Sorting," Nix changed the subject, "We're after the first years, yeah? Make an entrance and all that?"

"That's what our letters said. We have to be in robes, though. How boring, and conventional," Connor replied, despite his own relative disinterest in what he wore.

"Well, technically, there are a couple of loopholes we can make use of…" Dawn contradicted, smirking slightly.

* * *

Hogwarts' Great Hall, Five Hours Later.

"Well, that concludes the Sorting of our new first years'," Professor Dumbledore proclaimed, smiling in a grandfatherly manner at his students, "But, unlike every other year since the school's inception, not the Sorting! As the Daily Prophet may have informed you, we at Hogwarts are pleased to welcome two new seventh years, and welcome back to the Wizarding world one who should have been with us all her life. If you would…"

Harry's head spun to the doors as they creaked open, and three very familiar figures walked in, seemingly unconcerned that every eye in Hogwarts was fixed upon them. He rolled his eyes, noting the typical disregard for the spirit of the rule his young aunt displayed, seeing the unfastened robes over just-edited school uniform. The trio stopped where the first years had stood minutes ago, and then Dawn gave a smile Harry recognized all too well.

"Hello," she said mildly, but easily loud enough to be heard by the staring Hall. Apparently news of his relatives return had not quite prepared the school for a personal sighting, Harry mused, biting back a laugh.

Professor McGonagall quenched any nervous laughter, clearing her throat emphatically, and saying:

"Connor Aurelius."

The Destroyer walked forward, ignoring the whispers that broke out, and dropping onto the seat with the unnatural grace they all seemed to possess – whether due to their special abilities or just ridiculous amounts of training, Harry had no idea. Once the Hat touched his head, silence reigned in the Great Hall, the Hat taking longer to decide than it had for any first year. Eventually, the rip in the brim opened and shouted:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Shocked silence met the pronouncement, the seated boy staring wide-eyed at his friends. Harry and his group exchanged stunned looks – none of them had guessed he would be a Slytherin. _But then again, does it matter?_ A little voice whispered inside Harry's head. _He's still the same Connor, right? You knew he was sneaky, and you know he's not evil. What does his House change?_

Unbeknownst to the students, both Unsorted teens were stretching out tendrils of power, wordlessly offering comfort, support and promises that nothing was different to their friend. From the teacher's dais, Dumbledore watched the invisible-to-most display of unstoppable friendship with a content smile. Though the Sorting of the Aurelian boy was surprising, perhaps these three would finally begin to bridge the gap between Severus's Snakes and the rest of the school?

Connor rose, his training allowing him to school his features instantly into the blank mask of a hunter. He walked calmly past his friends, both of whom brushed their hands against his in reassurance, and took the place that opened between two of the elder Slytherins, the green and silver table applauding politely as they always did for a new recruit.

"Dawn Potter."

Harry watched as his aunt separated from Nix, almost dancing to the stool, her walk was so light, and folding onto it. Another extended pause followed, before one word was bellowed out by the Hat:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_Now that was expected,_ Harry thought. No one could deny his two aunts were brave – they'd saved the world. Dawn's Sorting was answered by tumultuous applause from the Gryffindor table, and she was pulled down to sit between the Weasley twins, who had quickly renewed their childhood friendship with her.

"Nicholas Selva."

Another round of whispers filled the room; the Prophet had obviously sold well today. The princeling's easy grace was in full force as he moved forward, and took his place on the stool. Yet another pause, before the Hat made its decision:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Shade teen tossed a glance in Connor's direction, who lifted his chin in acceptance. Clearly, they had not wished to have one of them separate. Lee Jordan beckoned him to the seat across from Dawn, as the table erupted all over again.

"After that excitement, I feel it is time to inform you that the Forbidden Forest is, unsurprisingly, forbidden," Dumbledore's twinkling gaze landed momentarily on the three new seventh years, each of whom stifled smirks, knowing full well that the rule did not apply, "and that over the summer, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has added a further twenty-nine items to the list of banned possessions – the full, extensive, list being available to anyone visiting his office, and – "

It seemed new seventh years would not be the only break from tradition. One of the unfamiliar – wait, no, Harry knew that woman – faces at the staff table had emitted a pathetic little cough, and Dumbledore broke off, turning to peer over his spectacles.

"Ah, of course, our new staff members! We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures for the time being, and also Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor – "

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," Professor Umbridge interrupted, smiling sickeningly down from her position. Dawn and Nix shared an incredulous look, much like everyone else in the Hall (though the staff hid it better). Both teens fell silent, Dawn instantly mentally communicating with both him and Connor. Fred, seeing the somewhat familiar stillness, nudged Dawn in the side once they stopped, and she muttered to the twins:

"She was at Harry's trial, Senior Under-secretary to the Minister, or something. Oversaw our exams to, and looked as though we'd killed her cat when she saw our results. And now she's here – we don't like it."

The twins nodded, for once looking serious. The three of them, and Lee, descended into whispers, the twins giving a running commentary of staff and students for Dawn, Nix listening to the speech so they could dissect it later, as he was the only one capable of listening to such political minded drivel.

Over on the Slytherin table, Connor was being introduced to his new classmates, all of whom seemed ever-so-slightly wary of him. He repressed a grin, knowing that these pureblooded teenagers would be likely to know the old stories of the Scourge of Europe, and he wouldn't be surprised if some of them half-expected him to flip at any minute and start killing whoever was nearest._ Idiots._ Then again, some of these kids would almost definitely be descended from the families who had lost a child to become a member of the Aurelian line – one thing the Prophet had right was the part where the Order of Aurelius was the only sect composed of purely Wizarding Masters, not that any of them had managed to keep their wands intact over the centuries. He'd have to drag them all to Ollivanders, Connor mused, _after all, any advantage is a bonus._

Then again, if they feared him because of his heritage, why not just shun him? His mind immediately found the answer in one of their sessions with Buffy, Sirius and Remus – purebloods, and especially Slytherins, like power. And there could be no doubt that Connor's unique parentage would give him power.

Umbridge's prattle ended, and Nix shook his head minutely, laughing softly to himself. Dawn raised one eyebrow in question, and he leaned forward as the rest of their little group did the same.

"Roughly translated, the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts. There's a lot more detail than she wanted to give away in there, though, so we're hardly in the dark."

Dawn nodded, having expected as much after seeing the toad-like woman at the staff table. Nix's assessment confirmed the theory, and from the sound of it, they'd have a fairly good idea of how the Ministry were planning to play their game. I suppose there's always a plus side to being able to read the subtext, Dawn admitted in her head. After all, if you know the other team's playbook…

The food appeared of the massive tables, and they tucked in. One of the beauties of a meal like this, and sitting with boys, would be that no one would recognize the sheer amount of food she was eating, Dawn mused. Something about the non-human aspect of her seemed to work exactly like the Slayers – the raised metabolism, and the amount of energy needed for her control and power level meant she needed to eat way more than the average girl. Provided that she ate without shoveling the food down her throat, like she could see Ron was doing further down the table, no one would think her appetite unusual, or excessive.

After a good hour's eating, the students began to leave the Great Hall, following the columns of first years being shepherded out by their House's Prefects. Dawn sent Connor one final glance, shooting a bolt of magic to him, full of her regret at being split, and her promise of unchanged friendship. The blatantly prejudiced stories they'd heard from Sirius and Buffy, occasionally tempered, but barely, by Remus must be making it hard for the Destroyer to adjust to his placement. They'd painted a picture of all Slytherins being inherently evil – and Dawn would be ripping into them for that if Connor suffered. For all people joked about her ring of protectors, Connor and Nix being firmly part of it, with a few others, Dawn was very much Mother Wolf. No one got away with hurting her 'family', as Angel had found out most recently. Inside the bound came her 'protectors', the Scoobies, the Order of Aurelius, Harry, Sirius and Remus, almost all of whom would say it was their responsibility to look after her, not the other way around. By extension, Harry's friends came under the umbrella, and the Order members. Whether any of them would be adopted as 'hers' would have to wait and see, though she'd almost bet that the Weasley family would have little trouble.

Reaching the common room, Lee gave the password to the Fat Lady, who did not respond. Instead, the painted woman stared down at the new students, before saying almost to herself:

"Oh my, I never thought I'd see the day… little Dawn Potter, all grown up and here at Hogwarts! Welcome home, dear girl."

Dawn smiled up at the portrait, childhood memories of her siblings visiting and attempting (and in James's case, usually succeeding) to talk the Fat Lady to let them into the common room to see friends after the Marauders had left. It seemed the day had finished almost as it had begun – with a commentary on her going to Hogwarts.


	2. An Omnipotent Aunt Or Not

"Morning, sweetheart," Nix greeted, sitting next to Dawn at the Gryffindor table. Despite her efforts to wait for her friends, Dawn's roommates had dragged her down for breakfast some ten minutes earlier, claiming the need to get to know each other. To be honest, the Key was finding the room-sharing all to familiar – there were moments last night she could almost have believed that she was back in Sunnydale, in the overcrowded Summers home when it had become host to the Potentials last year. Luckily, the waves of sadness at the loss of the girls went unnoticed – let no one say playing poker with Spike had taught her nothing. And at least everyone had their own (ridiculously big and comfortable) bed.

"Hey, Nix," she replied, as he wrapped an arm round her back to give her a half-hug. As he released her, Dawn caught sight of the rest of the seventh year girls 'aww'-ing the display of affection, and she knew instinctively that she'd be subject to another round of questions about her friendships with the boys as soon as the girls were alone. In some respects, Hogwarts really isn't that different to Sunnydale High, Dawn mused, half-smirking.

"Sleep well?" he asked, and she felt like hitting him – Buffy had told them that the first night wouldn't have any nasties to speak of, as there tended to be a mass demonic exodus at the start of the summer – no less easy prey, and nowhere near as much magic to feed off, so they could have a night off. The only night off they'd be getting in the foreseeable future, Dawn knew. There was one thing she'd have to hope changed: her roommates weren't exactly early to go to bed last night, and to stay inconspicuous in her absences, she'd either have to be in bed when they went to sleep and sneak out afterwards, or use a heavy-duty illusion and Disillusionment charm to slip out earlier in the evening, after claiming an early night. The latter trick couldn't be done with any regularity – how many early nights can one teen need? – so she was sincerely hoping it was just the excitement of the first night keeping them up past midnight. After all, the later they could start patrol, the later they got to bed afterwards, and the less sleep they all got. Nix's situation would be a little different, having two roommates who were well aware of the excessive sneaking out he'd have to do – but then again, the twins seemed determined to follow them, so that may not be a blessing.

Across the Hall, she saw the entirety of Slytherin House enter in one long line, Connor near the front with the other seventh years. They were flanked by what was probably the Prefects, and filed down the table, seventh years at the head, and the pupils decreasing in size away from them. The House sat in unison, and Dawn's eyebrows shot up as Connor sent her a roll of the eyes, and she muttered:

"What are they, drilled?"

"No one's ever figured it out, so maybe. But they do that every day, and every year," Alicia Spinnet told her, leaning over the table.

"In first year, I thought they were robots," Sophie Lewis, the one Muggleborn in Dawn's dorm added, causing those who had any idea of what robots were to laugh, namely Dawn, Nix, Angelina, and Jack Warner, (the seventh year boys Prefect, though he was hardly a Percy, but with the other options being Fred, George and Lee, he won hands down). Alicia, Lee and the twins were all Purebloods, and looked at them as if they'd come from another planet.

"Sorry, it's just… the image…" Jack managed to get out between chuckles, but eventually succumbed to the mad laughter of the rest, who were nearly rolling around on the benches. Eventually, they regained composure, Angelina wiping at her eyes as she said:

"May have been a little pre-class hysteria there…"

"Evidently so, Miss Johnson. I would hope that you are more composed when I see you in class later today," a stern, but vaguely amused voice came from above them, and they all schooled their features into the nearest thing to contrition they could manage on seeing the Deputy Headmistress, their timetables in hand. "And while I am not against students laughing, such displays of merriment can usually be achieved without nearly falling on the floor, can they not?"

"Yes, Professor. Sorry," Alicia answered, blushing slightly.

"Try and control yourselves in future. Here are your timetables – Miss Potter, Mr. Selva, you have two weeks to finalise on your courses. Oh, and congratulations on your results," their Head of House finished, before moving on to the next group. Fred instantly stole Dawn's timetable, looking at it and grimacing.

"I haven't finally decided my subjects yet," Dawn defended herself, seeing the twins shared look of horror.

"You have no free periods," George countered, looking her as if she'd grown an extra head.

"Well, I couldn't pick until I'd at least had one or two lessons of each, could I? I'm going to drop some, don't worry," Dawn replied archly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Dawn tugged it back to herself, scanned it and laughed. As the twins stared at her as if she was completely insane, she said:

"This is way lighter than my timetable last year! God, I thought I had ten hours of classes a day, the way you two were carrying on."

"That is _light_?" Fred asked incredulously, both twins' eyebrows raised almost into their hairlines.

"High schools have pretty full schedules," Nix shrugged, adding, "This is laidback, comparatively."

* * *

Two hours later, Hogwarts' Potion Lab, the Dungeons.

"Laidback, I said. HA!" Nix muttered, glaring at his cauldron.

"Chill, moron. It's just Chemistry, and cooking," Dawn hissed back, neither daring to distract themselves from their potions to use mind-speak.

"Neither of which I'm very good at," the princeling shot back, almost growling. Across the room, Connor's shoulders shook with suppressed later – despite the conversation not being discernable to human ears, and so safe to continue in Snape's realm, the half-vampire teen could hear every word, and was occasionally throwing his opinion in.

"Understatement," Connor muttered, gaining him a half-smirk and a swear word.

"You're hardly doing better yourself, Aurelius," Nix fired back once he'd recovered a little composure. Dawn shook her head, giggling too softly for anyone else to hear.

"Hush up, now, Sunrise," Connor hissed, ignoring the angrily muttering Shade. "This isn't easy for everyone, you know."

"Sorry, it's just… you're both over-concentrating. This is instinctive, in a way. You know what effects things have, what'll blow up when mixed, and you combine whatever'll do the job best."

"So what, we just throw whatever in?" Nix asked incredulously.

"No, but… think about what's going in. The instructions are generalized, they have to be. But no two samples of an ingredient will be precisely the same, so you have to use a little judgment. Like use four little beans, or two big ones, if the book says three," Dawn answered thoughtfully.

"And how the hell do we tell a big bean from a regular one?" Connor muttered irritably. The Destroyer was not the most patient of beings at the best of times, and the fumes of the potions they were making were only adding to his annoyance.

"It's just instinct," Dawn chided him softly, dropping a handful of lacewings into her cauldron. The gently bubbling contents turned a soft green, and she lifted her book to match the colour, before pouring a sample into a vial. Nix gazed down at his own effort, currently acid green and hissing violently. He threw in his lacewings, and it paled to a sickly yellow-green. The Shade shrugged, corking a vial and saying, "Close enough."

* * *

Lunchtime, Gryffindor Table.

"Hey, munchkin!"

Harry sighed at the greeting, much to his friends' amusement. His young aunt swung onto the bench next to him, with the rest of the seventh years filling the rest of the empty slots.

"Hello, _Aunt _Dawn," Harry responded, hoping the title would annoy her.

"Now, now, Harry, I'm not your Aunt until you get into trouble. And even then I doubt I'll be much of a role model," Dawn grinned, remembering a few particularly colourful episodes on her permanent record.

"Well, not a good one, anyway," Nix countered, adding, "Good at getting out of trouble maybe, not definitely not an example of how to not get into it."

"And you're better?" Dawn retorted, eyebrows raised.

"Said nothing of the sort, darling," Nix returned with a grin, thickening his usually soft accent. Hermione had once asked why he had the Irish lilt, rather than a New York drawl or a mix of the two, and the Shade teen had replied lazily that either of the other options would sound perfectly awful.

"So we've decided that you both can't keep yourselves out of trouble, then?" Harry asked dryly.

"Ah, but unlike you, we can get out of it," Nix answered.

"Little incident in Defence?" Dawn prodded quietly.

"How do you know about that already?" Ron questioned in shock, mouth empty for once.

"I am everywhere," Dawn answered, semi-seriously.

"And by that she means we learnt years ago to listen to gossip, discard the bull, and take in the truth. This school's grapevine is incredibly well-developed," Nix replied, rolling his eyes at his friend's supposed omnipotence.

"Must you ruin my fun?" Dawn shot back, turning her back on Harry to argue with her supposed best friend.

"Didn't you know? It's his primary function," a calm voice interrupted from behind, causing the black-haired girl to whip back round.

"Hey, Sunrise," Connor drawled, a half-smile slipping onto his face. "Letters for you. Came with mine."

With that, he turned and left, not quite sure enough of the lay of the land to risk upsetting the balance any further by staying. After all, just by taking it over, he'd gotten stunned looks from all House tables, and some downright hostile looks from some of the other red-and-gold tied students. No, the Aurelian teen needed to be secure enough in his place in Slytherin house that nothing he did could turn them against him – he needed to sleep, and his dormmates being out for his blood wouldn't make that easy. He was off to a good start: the questions last night had been fielded with a slow drawl and just enough fact to keep them on their toes, as well as making use of a few of the more intimidating effects of knowing full well you're the strongest person in the room. As soon as he had them too terrified to cross him, for fear of his family if nothing else, Connor could spend his time however he wanted. Until then he'd hang back and hope nothing happened to force him to reveal his true colours early in the game.

Directing his attention to the conversation he'd just left, he heard the tell-tale rustle, letting him know that Dawn had quickly glanced at the parchment and hidden it in her bag. She then continued to wheedle details about the kid's confrontation with the new Defence teacher, ending with a classically Dawn piece of advice – 'why go for the obvious approach? Subtle and covert rebellion works so much better!'. Right, so she'd be plotting tonight. Reaching his own table, he dropped into a seat with the seventh years boys, and listened with half and ear to their conversation.

* * *

History of Magic, Back Row, After Lunch.

Well, at least I know I'm dropping this class, Dawn thought lazily, having tuned out the ghostly professor within the first minute of the lesson. Honestly, I should have listened to Buffy – she said it was pointless, but nooooooo, I had to see for myself…

She glanced to her left, and saw Nix openly building a house of cards, and then glanced right, and saw Connor leaning back in his chair, playing catch with a muggle tennis ball. She smothered a laugh seeing the annoyed looks the rest of the class – all Ravenclaws, and all ignoring the droning spirit to make notes form various textbooks – were shooting her friends. Spotting the opportunity for a little peace and privacy, she fished out the parchment envelope Connor had tossed her at lunch, and began to read.

_Bit,_

_ How's Hogwarts? Which House are you in? And what about Peaches Junior, and Grey? God, I miss that place. You think you won't, I know, but give it a hundred years, you'll see._

_ How's the nephew? Figured out he's part of the madness yet? He will, but if he's anything like you and big sis, he'll cope. Sounds a lot like you, with all the trouble he seems to get into – yes, nibblet, the stories are all over the American Wizarding districts, as well as a few darker whispers, so I'll keep my ear to the ground. I took mini-me down there for some supplies, and did a little digging. According to rumour, even you'll have trouble keeping him out of scrapes, so remember everything I taught you. Little Houdini that you are._

_ Anyway, Peaches' domain is damn boring. I'm still a ghost to anyone except you and mini-me, despite Fred nearly fixing me. Got in a bind with an evil bugger by the name of Pavayne – kept trying to drag me down to hell, and then the tosser said he'd kill Fred, unless the ritual turned him solid instead of me. Which it did, but Forehead Boy locked him in a nice little cell for all eternity. Poetic justice – bugger gets to live, but with only a little hole to see a bloody unused corridor through. Turns out he had more power as a spook._

_ I want to hear from you regularly, platelet, or I'll be coming to check on you. And keep in touch with mini-me, too. Boy's going spare that you get to go to Hogwarts and he can't. I swear, if I ever meet his parents, there'll be hell to pay. Then again, I can't say I'm surprised. Moronic Purebloods – I should have known my family wouldn't change._

_ Watch your back, kiddo._

_ Spike. _

Dawn stifled a laugh, and pulled the second sheet of parchment to the front.

_Dawnie,_

_ Please ignore anything Spike said about me. It's all fabrication. Yes, I'd like to go to Hogwarts, but I had a little brother. Much as I want to see how he's grown, it'd hurt far too much to meet him or any family member. Especially as my father probably made sure he doesn't remember me – he was only four when I was thrown out, as I remember. And before you attempt to convince me no one could be so cruel – save your ink. We both know the truth._

_I do, however, miss you. You gave me what I've wanted since I was a child and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. Spike's considering seeing if I can get a magical tutor here in LA, a wand-user of course. I bought one in Sapphire Row yesterday, and you were right (as usual, annoyingly), it is ridiculously easy to control. I'm applying for the O.W.L.'s tomorrow, so I should sit them at the end of the month – handy little thing, that absorption spell. I'll probably sit the N.E.W.T.'s early next summer, as I still have senior year to get through._

_High school in L.A. is alright – Spike actually enrolled me in Hemery, just for a laugh. Tell Buffy they rebuilt the gym, and there's a plaque telling everyone that it was constructed by a 'generous benefactor' after a 'crazed arson attack' by a former student. Wonder if that was the Council? They did seem like the type to sweep their mistakes under the rug by buying someone off. Classes are fairly standard, though the physics teacher is horrible. I've got ten Galleons that say he turns out to be something evil. If you won't take it, I'll switch the bet around and try and goad Connor into it – I'm smart enough not to bet against you. Without you three, school and the rest of it are boring. I suppose I'm just used to all the mayhem and madness that follows you around. _

_Jordy's been in touch, he sounds pretty pissed off that he can't get in touch with you here anymore, though it serves him right for disappearing off the radar for the last year. Did you manage to get your mobiles working in the castle? If you did, (I'll be shocked if you didn't) send me your number and times that I can call you. _

_Miss you,_

_Logan._

Dawn hid a soft smile, before pulling out a notebook. Adding a few lines to the already covered pages in her loopy handwriting, she smiled, seeing another avenue to explore.

* * *

Outside the Fat Lady, Hogwarts, Nearly Midnight.

Harry Potter let out an inaudible sigh of relief when the Fat Lady came into view. His detention with Umbridge – she definitely didn't deserve the Professor honorific – had only finished a few minutes ago, and of course the squat woman hadn't offered him a pass to explain why he was out so late. He'd been lucky to avoid Filch and his cat on his way, and would probably have at least one more detention looming over him if it wasn't for the Marauder's Map he'd had in his pocket. He rubbed the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe the lingering ache, and gave the password to enter the Tower. He was almost to the boys' staircase when he heard the unmistakable sound of the portrait creaking open slowly, and three familiar voices speaking softly outside. Torn between relief that it wasn't a teacher who'd caught sight of him out in the halls after hours, and curiosity as to why they were still outside, he froze in the empty common room. Harry resisted the urge to inch nearer, but also couldn't quite force himself to carry on up the stairs.

"It's still weird, the Forest being so quiet. I don't trust it," Connor's voice was just about loud enough to reach Harry's ears, and the muted edginess in the tone kept the younger boy in place.

"It might be normal, remember. Everywhere has a different cycle in terms of activity, and if it's the magic that draws them, there probably won't be enough fresh energy around to draw much attention," Nix argued softly, his lilting voice more at ease than Connor's.

"We'll keep an eye on it," his youngest Aunt put in, reassuringly, "the numbers will probably pick up, you'll have something more fun to fight against, and then you'll relax, 'kay?"

"If you say so, Sunrise," Connor sounded unconvinced, Harry realised. Then again, from what he'd learned of the teen over the summer, he wasn't as laidback about everything as the rest of the Scoobies appeared, and seemed to put more trust in a solid plan than in the improvisation Dawn seemed to employ. _Probably why he's in Slytherin, _Harry's mind added, _having a plan is more of a cunning way to work._

Noticing the voices had gone quiet, and instead were replaced by the sounds of crawling through the portrait hole. He immediately began to rush towards the stairs when Nix's voice stopped him.

"Eavesdropping, kid?" Somehow the softly asked, but pointed, question stopped him in his tracks again. Feeling a wave of guilt hit him, Harry turned around sheepishly.

"I didn't mean to," he offered weakly, his eyes flicking between his aunt and one of her best friends.

"Why were you even down here, Harry?" Dawn asked, concern lacing her tone. She sank onto a sofa, Nix taking an armchair across from her. She waved Harry to join them, and he sat down next to her, slightly confused at the turn in the conversation.

"You aren't mad at me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Be a little hypocritical if I was," she answered with a quiet self-depreciating laugh.

"Dawnie used to eavesdrop almost constantly on the Scoobies," Nix added, flashing a grin. "No, the only reason I stopped you was to see how much you heard, and how much made sense."

"Only from Connor saying that the Forest is quiet. What did he mean – there's loads of magical creatures in there!"

"Not many demons," Dawn answered, "A lot less than we expected to tell the truth."

"What does that mean? Are they all joining Voldemort?"

"It's a possibility," Nix answered, sighing.

"But not our first option. A lot of things effect the demonic population in an area – feeding supply, ambient power, magic, presence of a Slayer, likelihood of being under the radar. Hell, those Acromantulas would put a fair few off," Dawn quipped, before turning serious again, "In Hogwarts' case, the feeding supply isn't as good as a big city, but better than little villages and towns; ambient magic and power is off the scale; the three of us being here makes things harder, but also presents the possibility for glory, and they're more likely to be found out. Even though the Wizarding world doesn't necessarily believe in demons as much as they should, a little research would let someone know what they're up against. Hogwarts without a Slayer wouldn't usually be considered worth the risk by most demons, except for those who need the magic to survive or strengthen them. With the three of us here…"

"It becomes a target," Nix took over. "Supposedly, we're less protected, being split from the rest of the group, and without a lot of our resources. It'll be a big temptation for anyone looking for a bit of glory, or a way to rise up the ladder."

"Will you be alright?" he asked, feeling slightly ashamed of the tremor in his voice.

"Oh, Harry, we'll be fine. Don't you worry about us," Dawn answered, pulling him into a half-hug. "It's my job to worry about you, remember?"

Harry excused himself fairly quickly after that, not used to people caring about what he did enough to worry. As he lay in his bed, staring at the hangings in an attempt to fall asleep, he grinned to himself against his will. It felt good to have people care about him.


	3. A Different Type of School Inspection

**_A/N: _I'm so incredibly sorry. I'm a terrible person, I know. Please, don't kill me, though I'd sympathise if you wanted to. This chapter really didn't want to be written, and I've only managed short bursts of inspiration for it, despite knowing exactly where it was going. On top of that, I've been struggling to find time to write with the change to a university schedule in last October. Poor excuses, I know, but hopefully you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me. Enjoy, and hopefully review - reviews are inspirational :P**

**~ FireSkies  
**

"Feels weird, huh?"

The soft voice broke Buffy out of her staring match with the fire, and she waved a hand to invite the speaker to join her. Remus settled into the armchair opposite her, taking in the worn sweat pants and hoody, and the very curled up position of his old friend.

"More than weird, Ree. It feels wrong – us three here, without them. Even without Peter," Buffy answered, one hand playing with her ponytail.

Remus sighed, scratching the back of his head. "It does. It still seems insane – how could we not have seen it? How did we not notice one of our best friends switching sides?"

"We were all too wrapped up in ourselves, I guess. Lily and James were in their own little bubble with Harry, I was always thinking about the next fight and tracking some new demon that might join Voldemort, you were busy with your father's bookstore, and looking after Dawnie – God, you probably spent more time with her that year than James or I, what with his job and his 'little Pronglet', and me and the Slaying. And Sirius had the Auror department, and playing with the kids. We just never noticed that all our lives had moved on, and Peter hadn't," Buffy finished, eyes faraway.

"We should have, though," Remus argued quietly, sadly. "He was our friend. Did we drive him to it, do you think? We all moved on without him, and he lost it? We stopped protecting him from the bullies, and he found a new protector, whatever the cost?"

The Slayer was silent for a moment, before looking over at Remus, saying, "You've been sitting on this for a while, haven't you?"

"Who was there to talk to?" the werewolf countered, somewhat bitterly, "James and Lily were gone, Sirius was in Azkaban, supposedly the traitor, and Peter was supposedly dead at his hand. You and Dawn had disappeared, and Harry was just a baby, and no matter what the Ministry weren't going to let a werewolf look after the Boy-Who-Lived, even just occasionally. I asked all these questions when I thought it had been Sirius, and since knowing it was Peter, I've asked myself them all over again."

"You couldn't have known, Moony," Sirius broke in from the doorway, and both heads swiveled to look at him. The canine Animagus stretched out on a sofa, and continued, "He played us all for fools."

"Dawnie never liked him. Cried every time he picked her up, or even went too near to her," Remus contradicted.

"And how were we to know that she was going to be the world's best character judge?" Sirius argued. "We just thought he was bad with kids!"

"We couldn't have known, Ree," Buffy soothed, adding self-depreciatingly, "I'm supposed to have evil radar, remember? I didn't sense a thing from him. Or maybe I did, and I overlooked it. Either way, if anyone should have realised, it was me."

"I was the one who told Prongs to switch Secret Keeper," Sirius muttered, sounding thoroughly guilty.

"And you've paid for that. Twelve years in Azkaban sounds worse than any of the hell dimensions I've heard of, or visited," Buffy countered, "We can't change the past, guys. I wish we could but, if the last few years have taught me anything, it's that you shouldn't mess with love spells, resurrection spells, and time. All we can do is deal with the hand we're dealt."

"You're right," Remus sighed, visibly wilting. "We can only do the best we can for Harry, and for Dawn. It's what they would have wanted. Which means no crazy missions to hunt down Peter, Sirius. Harry needs you here."

"Alright," the Animagus muttered, obviously having been planning to do exactly that.

"Anyway, I have the latest from our insiders," Buffy changed the subject, steering them away from the murky waters of the past and towards the here and now. "Apparently, Umbridge is snooping around for information as to people heralding Voldemort's return, and trying to weasel details on the Council and their backgrounds out of anyone who may have a clue."

"Do we know if she's found anything interesting?" Sirius asked, a dark look crossing his face.

"Well, she doesn't seem to be putting much stock in the _Prophet_ article, which can only be a good thing," Buffy commented idly, adding, "which means anything that relates to the truth printed will be passed over as rumour."

"And the Council?"

"The Watcher's Council has survived for centuries as a shadowy organization with little known of our doings. One nosy Ministry worker turned teacher is not about to change that."

"Which means what, precisely?" Remus questioned, raising an amused eyebrow.

"Misdirection. Conflicting rumours. Glossing over the truth. The usual. Besides, it's not as if the Council is famed for honesty, and everyone we deal with knows it. We could announce our plans to Fudge himself, and he'd probably treat it as a pile of lies," Buffy snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Well, let's not test that theory if we can help it," Remus replied, leaning back in his chair.

"You ruin all my fun," Sirius mumbled, scowling. The three old friends descended into laughter, feeling just for a moment, as if it really could be just like old times.

Hogwarts Castle, Staff Room, Same Time.

"Welcome, dear friends, to our first meeting of the year," Dumbledore announced, settling himself in his usual overstuffed armchair. He smiled benevolently round at his staff. He ignored the scowl that passed over the face of his Potions Master, and the look of bemusement that coloured the rather unwelcome face of Delores Umbridge. He didn't even noticed the exasperated eye roll from his Deputy Headmistress, or the complete absence of the Divination teacher. After all, new staff were always faintly bemused by his staff meetings, and the rest were simply par for the course, and happened every year without fail. It was one of the reasons Dumbledore hadn't changed his method of conducting a meeting in all his years as Headmaster.

"Now, the first years. How are they settling in? Minerva?"

"Admirably, Albus. The usual testing of boundaries won't start for another week or so, and the older students seem to be looking after them a little more than usual."

"The new Ravenclaws are much the same," Filius Flitwick added, from his cushion-stacked chair, "adhering well to the House schedule, and listening to the prefects as always."

"My Hufflepuffs are settling well," Professor Sprout put in, nodding happily, "Not that we ever have any problems."

"I delivered the normal speech, and my prefects did as well. They are cowed, but will doubtlessly push the limits sooner or later," Snape finished, rounding up the Heads of Houses' reports.

"Good, good," Dumbledore replied, before looking over his half-moon glasses and asking, "And the older students? Any disruptions there?"

"Nothing unmanageable, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, forcing herself to hold her sickly smile in place. After all, if she glossed over her troubles with the Potter boy – and she had dealt with the brat, make no mistake – then Minerva wouldn't bring it up. She needed to seem entirely proficient as a teacher and disciplinarian, if the Minister's plans were to come to frutition.

"Excellent, excellent," Dumbledore nodded, almost seeming not to pay any attention what-so-ever. In fact, he was already considering exactly how to introduce the next topic, without inciting a mutiny from his staff. It really was a shame he had to tell them, the aged headmaster mused, but with the new level of ministry scrutiny in the school, he couldn't just authorize students to sneak out in the middle of the night to protect the school and its occupants without telling anyone else. Never mind that Severus and Delores would both be searching for any reason to catch a Potter breaking the rules.

"Now, the new seventh years – " he started, eyes twinkling at full force.

"Albus, you cannot be serious," Minerva interrupted, looking at him in disbelief.

"It was part of the agreement that meant they would attend," he countered softly, turning to focus on her.

"They are barely more than children!" the Deputy Headmistress argued.

"I do not believe they have been children for a very long time, Minerva," Dumbledore answered, and the sadness in his eyes made her lose the protest that had worked its way to her lips. He turned to face the staff as a whole, and began again, "As you may or may not be aware, all three new seventh years are also employees, and in Miss Potter's case a member, of the Watchers' Council. In the course of their year here, they are also under orders to protect the school and its occupants from any of the threats they are trained to deal with. While the threat to the school is small, it is seen as good practice for them to balance a normal life against their own duties. Therefore, we are not to cut them any slack in terms of attendance or work, except in cases of extended stays in the hospital wing, or a serious crisis, which I will notify you of. They are however, exempt from curfews and boundaries, as is necessary for them to go about their business."

"Mere students, protecting the school?" Snape sneered.

"They are well-trained, Severus," Dumbledore reminded.

"So we are to allow the endangerment of children?" Umbridge asked, with a look of entirely fake concern. McGonagall rolled her eyes covertly, while the rest of the non-Order staff also looked (truthfully) concerned. Even Hagrid, who had full knowledge (or as full as any of the Order did) of the teenagers past, looked uneasy.

"We have little choice, my dear," Dumbledore sighed. "The Council edict overrules any and all other rules and laws we could try to counter with. All three are legal adults, and as such took up their places with the Council willingly and I do not believe they would ignore their duty for any reason. We have, however, been invited to shadow them tonight, - under Disillusionment charms, of course – and I expect there will be time to question them ourselves as to the wisdom of their endeavour."

Same time, The Room of Requirement, Training Room form.

"This is pointless."

"It's politics, man. Always ridiculous, always annoying – but always necessary," Nix replied lazily to Connor's statement, leaning back in this chair. The two boys were sat in the newly appeared lounge area of their Room of Requirement training session.

"The Council already has jurisdiction. We know it, they know it. Why do we need it all nice and above board?" Connor half-growled, scowling up at the ceiling.

"I get that you don't like too many people in the know – "

"The entire Order of the Pheonix was too many. The school staff, too? It's just excessive. Knowing too much could get them killed."

"They'd find out the second anyone tried testing us with any kind of force, skill or plan. We're good, but I'm not sure we can defend a castle without anyone in it noticing the fight. Us being here is going to attract attention, Connor. Better they know to shut the hell up and listen when the time comes," Nix argued, running a hand through his already messy hair and glancing towards the door that joined their sanctuary to the school.

"So we risk them getting hurt on patrol, just so we don't have to argue with them later?" Connor sighed, appearing resigned.

"Yes. They're all fully trained, experienced wand users. They know that at least some of the things that go bump in the night aren't just fairytales to scare the kiddies with. If they're dumb enough to get in the way, we try and save them, but not at the expense of someone else, or the failure of the mission. Chances are they can take a little roughing up, anyway. Magical medicine and all that," Nix answered calmly. The two boys lapsed into silence, letting each other adjust to the concept of taking their teachers on patrol.

"Approach by group! Arrival in T minus one minute!" the magical radar over the door announced after a few minutes, and the two boys straightened, both casting critical eyes over the training room, though for different reasons. Nix was seeing if they looked professional and trustworthy, without weapons strewn about carelessly or anything bloodstained in sight, Connor was looking to make sure the best of their arsenal was locked away in the weapons chest and not on display. Not point giving away just how much of an armoury they had tucked away in Hogwarts.

"T minus 30 seconds! T minus 20 seconds! T minus 10 seconds!"

The door opened, and the staff entered, greeting the boys with varying amounts of warmth (Dumbledore, primarily) and civility (or lack of). The Room provided refreshments, and just as Nix was trying to decide how to start, a side door swung open, and Dawn stepped out, in full patrol gear, hair still slightly damp.

"Sorry about that," she said easily, dropping with innate grace onto the last free armchair. "I take rather longer than the boys after training, and I wanted to be nice and presentable. Now, to business?"

A few of the teachers looked rather taken aback by the casual approach, a fact Connor noted with satisfaction. The sooner the staff realised where the power lay, the better. At a nod from Professor Dumbledore, Dawn continued.

"The three of us are active agents of the Watchers Council. That means that alongside our school work, we will be required to keep up with our paid positions, namely with patrolling, training, research, and possible missions outside of the school in certain situations. Of course, some of these obligations cannot be carried out during the day – there is a reason people say the 'things that go bump in the night'. Patrolling, for instance, can only be done after sunset, and depending on activity, could take literally all night – "

"Leaving you unable to stay awake next morning. Headmaster, there is no way we can educate people who stay out all night, they will be entirely unable to concentrate. I refuse to do it," Snape interrupted, sneering.

"On the contrary, Professor, we were patrolling until three this morning, and roughly that for the past week. Have we seemed asleep to you? Judging by our progress in classes, I can't imagine we slept through them," Connor responded softly.

"We do, of course, have means to rectify tiredness, Professor. The absolute last thing we would desired would be to endanger students or staff as a result of giving them our protection," Nix added, carefully skirting round the 'superhuman' issue – given Umbridge's previous actions in government, they did not want her trying to class them a sub-human.

"We are also well used to coping with school life alongside our other duties. And with three of us on campus – sorry, on site, too used to the American vernacular – we will be able to give anyone suffering a break. Pick up the slack, you know?" Dawn finished smoothly.

"And you say you are skilled? What situation gives rise to teenagers being ready to fight against demons?" Madam Umbridge asked, drawing herself up to her full, entirely insignificant, height.

"Hell dimension."

"Hell goddess after you."

"Hellmouth."

"Selva, that's pathetic. Come up with something more specific than living on a Hellmouth! There's three we know of, all under towns or cities!" Connor mock-complained.

"Technically two active and one blocked, after Sunnydale went kablooey," Dawn put in, grinning. The older members of staff, and Snape, looked momentarily terrified – the mischeivious grin and casual talk of things exploding had been far too reminiscent of a Potter who'd terrorized Hogwarts roughly twenty years ago.

"Kablooey?" "Sunnydale?"

"Classified information, I'm afraid," Dawn answered wryly.

"Luckily for you, I doubt they'd let you in knowing the family history with schools," Connor muttered, grinning.

"Only new Sunnydale High got destroyed when I was enrolled! I had absolutely no direct connection with old Sunnydale or Hemery!" Dawn hissed defensively.

"Except for your sister being behind both unscheduled demolitions…" Nix murmured. Luckily, the jibes had been below the level of hearing for normal humans, so no explanation or official defense was necessary.

"Anyway, we'd better grab our gear, boys!" Dawn exclaimed, somewhat hurriedly. "After all, sunset was half an hour ago, more than enough time for the monsters to have come out to play!"

Both boys rolled their eyes, and began moving to different wardrobe-like cupboards, opening them and considering the weaponry. Dawn kicked open a chest, and secured holster belt around her slim hips. She dropped a gun into one side, and stowed her wand in the much thinner pocket on the right. A few knives were slid into the belt hidden below the waistband of her jeans, and a stake tucked into the back. A thin bobble struggled to hold all her curls back in a high pony, and in true Slayer style, she slicked on a top up of her favourite gloss. Another stake and knife found homes inside her boots, and she stood, surveying the group of still seated teachers before crossing the room to the bookshelves, running a finger along the spines until she tapped a nail against a folder that looked rather at odds with the older books around it, and slid it out of the line.

"Nix?" she called, making both boys look up instantly, before Connor went back to securing an axe against his back.

The two raven-haired teens murmured to each other as they pored the lime-green ringbinder, and then looked up in eerie synchronization to the staff.

"This patrol is meant to show you that we are a well trained, almost entirely self-sufficient unit: fighting, training, research, knowledge, field medicine, the works. That means our fighting cannot be altered by the presence of civilian observers. To that end, we'd like to put an S.E.P. field on you all," Nix started, using all his princely training to remain firm, but polite.

"An S.E.P. field works like a much more powerful Notice-Me-Not charm, but with the exception that people needing be aware of you, will be. So, we'll be able to communicate and see you, but none of the nasties will," Dawn finished with a grin.

"S.E.P.?" Flitwick asked, frowning – he had, after all, heard of no modified Notice-Me-nots.

Both teens smirked a little, before Dawn answered:

"Somebody Else's Problem. Willow created it, and when she was telling us about it, Andrew linked it to Hitchhiker's Guide, and the name kind of stuck."

The staff looked more confused, but after a brief explanation of the process and mechanics, agreed. Once the spell was set, the three supernatural teenagers shared a nod, and led the way into the night.


	4. A Day In Moments

A/N: After receiving a very long review on the Fifth Marauder, that unfortunately was unsigned so I couldn't respond directly, I thought I'd better clarify some things. First up, ages of the Potter clan:

James and Buffy (real age at return to magical world) = 33

Buffy's ALTERED AGE = 23

Dawn's age = 17

Harry's age = 15

Dawn is two years older than Harry, and six years young than Buffy's ALTERED age, as chosen by the Watchers' Council. NOT six years younger than James and Buffy's real age. James did not have Harry when he was eight.

I understand that this is a little odd, as Buffy has technically has two ages, but in general, the younger option will only be used when she wants to call people old, or argue that she's not old.

Second, the difference in looks of the Potter siblings:

Fraternal twins, such as twins of different genders, are only 50% identical, the same as any siblings. So they have similar face shapes, but inherited the two mainly described characteristics, hair and eyes, from different parents. Yes, the 'you look so like your mum/dad' idea has been extrapolated in this case, but take Harry – children aren't normally near-perfect copies of one parent, but he is. Perhaps in the wizarding world, where we know that families have dominant characteristics (Weasley red hair, anyone? Not to mention Draco basically being a mini-Lucius.) these similarities are more pronounced, possibly due to the smaller gene pool, given that the only influx of new genetic material is through Muggleborns and marriages with Muggles. As for Dawn, yes, the TV series Dawn appearance is totally different again. But as explained, it is an illusion. She actually looks a lot like James and Harry, but with James, Buffy and Dawn's mother's eyes. In terms of the Potter siblings, James was almost a carbon copy of his father, Buffy had her mother's hair and petite frame but her father's eyes, and Dawn took after her father but with her mother's eyes. All perfectly believable.

Hank and Joyce were adoptive parents of Buffy and Dawn. They were not in any way, shape or form blood relations of the Potter family.

Dawn didn't go to an American magic school, as they were in HIDING. Also known as trying not to be found. She was trained by a Watcher, continued her studies using books, and later her training was added to by Spike, Angel, Willow and Tara at different times. Faith also trained her during season 7, and Buffy after season 6.

Sorry about that, was the only way I could find to address said reviewer, if the mysterious 'M' has continued this far, I hope this answers them. If not, PM me, and we can debate this somewhere other than at the start of chapters : )

Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY (sorry it took so long… I'm blaming the depression…)

Hogwarts' Great Hall, Gryffindor Table, morning.

"Is it just me, or do they all look bloody knackered?"

The softly spoken words filtered down the table to Harry, from where Ron appeared to have forgotten about the mounds of food on the table, in favour of staring disbelievingly at the head table, mouth slack and thankfully free of half-chewed breakfast. Harry and Hermione both followed his gaze, and their eyes widened as they took in the clearly exhausted staff. Hermione even forgot to reprimand the redhead for his language, she was so stunned by the fact that not only were the majority of teachers looking like they hadn't had two hours sleep between them, but also the fact that the usually oblivious boy had noticed. Harry's eyes scanned the row – all four Heads of House, the headmaster and Umbridge especially looked strained.

"Maybe it there was, y'know, bird-watching?" Ron muttered, dropping his gaze to his two friends and making use of the Scooby-gang invented (and rigorously kept secret from all but a few members) nickname for the Order's activities.

"Umbridge is tired too. She's definitely not a… bird-lover," Hermione whispered back, wrinkling her nose.

"Maybe… marking? Or lesson planning?" Harry offered weakly, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"Too early in the term, and almost all of them have been teaching long enough to have lesson plans sorted," Hermione countered.

"Hey, d'you think someone blew something up? Or a problem in one of the other houses? I know if I was in Slytherin for longer than five minutes I'd start hexing something…" Ron offered, seeming oddly intrigued by the prospect.

"I doubt Professor Snape would ask for help if it was his house, Ronald," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes, "and I think we would have heard any explosion loud enough to keep them all from sleeping."

"Well, what then? Do you have any brilliant ideas?" Ron shot back. Harry suppressed a sigh at the near-constant bickering between his two best friends, and scanned the rest of the table. The news of overtired teachers had spread like wildfire, and more than a few students were not-so-subtly debating exactly how much leeway this would allow in classes today. Fred and George even appeared to be taking bets on whether teachers would be stricter (2-1 odds on McGonagall and Snape, if Harry could still read the twins' rather odd hand signals) or more lax with regards discipline. A little further down the table, Dawn and Nix sat, apparently deep in conversation, and glancing down to something beneath the table. Across the hall, Harry spotted Connor half paying attention to the idle conversation of the Slytherin table and half checking something beneath the table. Had they finally figured out a channel of communication within the school? If they had, Harry would soon know about it, as his aunt had promised that he would be a part of it, if only in case one of the emergencies that tended to find him occurred. Just as he was about to glance away, Connor shot him a smirk, and glanced meaningfully up at the staff table. Did that mean…?

"I think Connor knows something," Harry hissed, interrupting his arguing friends. Hermione looked momentarily startled, and looked around for the seventh year, who was know thoroughly focused on his plate. She froze for a second, looking up their own table, then turned slowly back to Harry and Ron.

"Yes, I think he might. Dawn just winked at me," she confided.

"Do you think they did something?" Ron muttered, glancing round at the two American Gryffindors.

"I wouldn't put it past them…" Harry muttered.

"I doubt they'd be sat here if they were behind Professor Snape losing sleep," Hermione countered, grinning minutely.

"Potions is going to be a nightmare, isn't it?" Harry asked, not expecting an answer. From his left, Neville groaned in despair.

Wizarding London, mid-morning.

"A pleasure to see you again, Griphook," Buffy began politely, settling herself into the large leather armchair facing the goblin's desk. "And may I say, I was both surprised and glad to hear that you were able to accompany Harry on his first visit to this fine establishment."

The goblin gave a smirk, or what would have passed for a smirk on a human face. He placed his elbows on the desk's surface, and leant forwards.

"It has long been the custom for the Potter account manager to escort the family," he replied.

"Usually at the request of the head of household," Buffy countered. "And House Potter is gratified to learn that Gringotts has kept our tradition alive, even without such a person in place."

Griphook froze momentarily and gave her a shrewd look:

"Your father did indeed teach you well, Lady Potter. The partners were concerned that the fortunes of House Potter would have fallen on harder times without a well-versed custodian, needless to say, I will be happy to reassure them. Am I to presume you will be instructing young Mister Potter in time for him to take the reigns at his coming of age?"

"Then, or whenever he feels ready. I won't rush him into taking over the finances, or any other part of being the head. He's been through a lot," Buffy trailed off, looking out of the window. A flicker of concern crossed her face, before she turned back to the goblin.

"That is, in part, why I am here," she continued. "I would like to have copies of the accounts for the last three years, for both my sister and nephew to learn from. While Gringotts takes excellent care of our interests, my father impressed upon myself and my dear brother the importance of at least being capable of following and understanding our own finances, even if we did not deal with them in person. I would also like a report detailing the family finances, covering from two years prior to my father's death up until the present situation. That should give me a fair overview to help get me up to speed, don't you think?" Buffy smiled at the goblin, who was momentarily taken aback.

"Anything else?" the goblin asked with what Buffy presumed was the goblin equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"Details of investments, as I wish to check on the companies' suitability after such a period. I wouldn't want any of our more of our controlling interests to be outright defying their contracts, and I'd hate to crash the stock without first warning the other shareholders that I was considering it… Oh, and I believe the Estate was left in trust with Gringotts? I'll be needing any reports you have, and the status of the house elves, so I can meet with the Head Elf as soon as possible. Will that be a problem?"

"Of course not, Lady Potter," Griphook responded, having recovered himself promptly. "Gringotts is glad you have returned to do business with us once again."

"And may it benefit us both," Buffy replied with a nod, leaving the office.

_Benefit indeed, _Griphook thought as the door shut behind her._ Yes, the bank's partners would be more than satisfied with the new keeper of the Potter funds, and he'd still have his head attached when the Potter boy turned seventeen. After all, the Potter fortune was one of the largest the bank handled. If it declined, so would Gringotts. And woe betide anyone who allowed that…_

Hogwarts' Lakeside, afternoon.

"I knew you'd get it working."

Dawn grinned at the phone in her, before pushing down her amusement and replying archly: "And what kind of greeting is that?"

"One that shows my absolute faith in your abilities," the voice countered smoothly.

"Hello, Logan," Dawn smiled, settling herself down onto a rock. She'd come out to the lake, hoping not to be disturbed while she tested the freshly modified mobile phone. She'd be issuing them to Nix, Connor and Harry later, as soon as she had them approved by Professor Dumbledore for use in the school – though they'd never use them in classes except in cases of emergencies. But for this test, she wanted to have some privacy, and not only because she didn't want anyone around if the piece of technology decided this was one modification too far, and simply blew up in hand in protest.

"Hello, beautiful," came the response, as light and teasing as always. "So, tell me about Hogwarts?"

"It's every bit as beautiful and insane as Buffy told us. I can't quite get my head around the fact that I live in a castle, with actual dungeons… Which Connor lives in. How crazy is that?"

"How's he coping with the Slytherins?"

"Seems to have them half-terrified that he'll suddenly remember that vampires kill people and decide to go on a murderous rampage to uphold his family's traditions. Either that, or they plain don't believe that he's descended from vamps, but at least it means none of them are trying too hard to curry favour. He's still got no patience for that sort of thing."

"And you?"

"You know me, Lo. I much prefer to keep people in suspense, so we've told them very little. They don't know that I'm adoptive kin, and I doubt they will find out, short of an attack that requires a move of all-out defiance. Only around half of them believe that Nix is Shade, and not one seems to have figured out that he's heir apparent, thankfully. Imagine how many kinds of chaos that would cause! How's everyone there?"

"Spike's still doing his level best to drive Angel round the bend, though it's easier now he's corporeal again. No one here seems to have forgiven Angel entirely for wiping their memories of Connor, though they're all eager to meet him again. Maybe we can set something up for Christmas?"

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts, early evening.

"Are there any further objections?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly. The squat witch shifted in her seat, before simpering:

"No, Headmaster. I'll be sending a report to the Minister, as he requested this evening. I was only concerned for the continued safety our students, but evidently that isn't an issue."

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow as the latest in a long string of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers left the office. He turned to the Heads of Houses, all of whom looked taken aback at the barely-veiled slur.

"How enlightening…" the Headmaster murmured, drawing a snort from McGonagall.

"Enlightening? I'd say downright insulting, Albus!"

"How dare that woman insinuate we don't care for our students' safety above all else!" Pomona Sprout added, with a scowl that looked most out of place on her usually cheerful face.

"And implying they don't know what they're doing! Did she watch the same demonstration we did? I've never seen students so capable of defending themselves in all my years!" Flitwick exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his seat, his outrage was so strong.

"Perhaps the lack of sleep has befuddled her already feeble mind?" Severus put in, a sneer curling at his lips. While he would never usually be in support of such a… Gryffindor idea as a trio of students fighting demons, he had been forced to acknowledge the skill on display the night previous, as all three seventh years had come away with little more than a few scrapes and bruises apiece. Not one of their… prey, he supposed the accurate term would be, as the three of them had clearly been the hunters, not the hunted, had survived a scuffle, and more than a few had been overheard plotting attacks on the local people.

"Now, now, everyone," Albus rebuked mildly, "I'm sure Delores choice of words was not quite so deliberate."

"Deliberate? Albus, she more or less admitted at the Sorting that she was here to destabilize you, and I'd say insinuating you don't put the students' wellbeing before all else is a sure way to go about it!" Minerva replied acidly, her brogue thickening.

"Well, I for one will rest happily in my bed having seen what those three are capable of," Filius squeaked, "why, I doubt Hogwarts has ever been safer!"

Watcher's Council Headquarters, London, dinner time.

"Should have known you'd never really leave the library, Moony."

Remus' head shot up from his pile of books, and looked wildly around for a minute, before his eyes settled on his old friend leaning in the doorway. Sirius raised an eyebrow, smirked and continued:

"Nice nap?"

"I wasn't napping, I was… working," Moony trailed off rather lamely, realising with a start that the sky was considerably darker than he thought it should be. It wasn't even lunchtime, was it?

"So you skipped lunch then willingly then?" Sirius countered.

"No, I… I must have lost track of time," Remus answered, as his stomach betrayed him by gurgling loudly.

"Come on, old wolf, it's dinner time," his friend said, flashing a lopsided grin. "The full moon is in a few days, you need your strength."

"You're right," Remus sighed, glancing out of the window again. The moon was nearly full, and he could feel the wolf in him stirring restlessly. He shook his head as he stood, stretching stiff muscles as he did. _That's what I get for falling asleep on a book, _he reprimanded himself. His friend smirked, hearing a joint crack.

"I have to admit, I thought you realised back in Hogwarts that books didn't make good pillows…"

"_That_ was because you and James charmed the pages to stick to my face," Remus countered.

"How else were we supposed to remind you to stop before you fell asleep in the common room?" Sirius argued, grinning.

"By telling me the time?" he replied blandly, raising an eyebrow.

"You've never listened to me," the dog Animagus mock-pouted. "Even when I'm right."

"Ah, but when are you ever right?" Remus teased good-naturedly.

"I'm right about you and my cousin."

"I've told you my reasons, Sirius," the werewolf sighed, before a hint of amusement touched his suddenly tired features, "besides, you can lecture me about my relationships, or lack thereof, when you've spoken with Buffy."

Sirius stilled momentarily, glancing at his old friend before replying somewhat stiffly: "What do you mean, spoken to her? We've spoken lots of times."

"Not about what you should talk to her about," Remus answered pointedly.

"Not about what you should talk to who about?"

Both men started guiltily, and then relaxed slightly seeing Xander at the end of the corridor. The younger man grinned, and continued:

"Will sent me, apparently if you take much longer she's going to take the warming charm of your food. But yeah, who do you need to talk to about something you haven't talked to them about?"

Sirius took a minute to unravel the question, and then replied as smoothly as he could, "Moony thinks I need to apologise to Molly. I lost my temper with her in a meeting, over Harry. Told her he wasn't her son, so she couldn't make decisions for him. He's probably right."

"Ouch, yeah, apologizing is probably the way to go. I mean, I've only met her once or twice, but well, the phrase never get between a mama bear and her cubs comes to mind. And while he may not be hers, the kid has a way of making people want to look after him. It's like Dawnie, they've both got the whole 'protect-me' vibe going on. She'd hate me for saying it, but it's totally true."

Remus was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly.

"See, Padfoot? Molly only wants the best for him, and while he isn't her son, the Weasleys have treated him as one of their own. I'm not saying that she has the right to make his decisions, that's for you and Buffy to do, but at least acknowledge that Molly has a place in Harry's life."

"Alright, Moony. I'll catch her next time I'm at Grimmauld Place," Sirius agreed, shooting his friend a grateful look for playing along.

"And you should hurry up and ask Buffy out already. The sappy staring is getting ridiculous. Next thing you'll be brooding, and brooding is never of the good. Anyway, food awaits!"

Xander turned and headed towards the dining room, chuckling to himself. Remus looked at Sirius's completely gobsmacked expression before descending into laughter, and following the lead strategist.

Slytherin Common Room, after dinner.

"Hey, Aurelius, where do you disappear to all the time?"

Connor looked up from his essay, and raised an eyebrow at his fellow seventh years. The speaker, Adrian Pucey, didn't seem to take note of the half-amused look on Connor's face, and barreled on.

"Got a girlfriend, eh? Maybe that new Gryff – the Potter girl. Shame she's a blood traitor, or I'd have had a go myself."

The Destroyer's face darkened, his expression becoming one that would have been recognized throughout Quor'toth. He forced the blank, unconcerned mask back into place, before answering in a voice tight with barely controlled anger.

"Dawn is not my girlfriend. She is, however, an old friend of the family and of mine. As for you 'having a go', as you so crudely put it, by all means, attempt it. I could use a laugh."

"What do you mean, you could use a laugh?" the Slytherin prefect replied.

"Just that I'd find it amusing to see what she'd do to you. I don't know what kind of little girly pushovers you have here, but she can more than take care of herself," Connor smirked, eyes resting momentarily on some of the more delicate Slytherin girls. Honestly, he was surprised any of them managed to get dressed in the morning, the way they whined and pouted if they so much had to carry their own books from the library. Pathetic.

Pucey gulped noticeably at the almost frightening grin on Connor's face, but pushed on regardless:

"Pureblood women aren't meant to look after themselves. They just need to make good wives and mothers, and maybe Potter needs someone to remind of that. I mean, maybe it's different in your family, or coven if the Prophet's telling the truth, but I wouldn't mind teaching little Miss Potter her proper role in the world."

"Try do to that, and she'll knock you on your ass faster than you can say Quidditch. Then she'll hex you six ways from Sunday, and I doubt you'll ever manage to reproduce by the time she's done with you. Vicious, that one. Absolutely brilliant to watch, but downright vicious," Connor grinned, "And for your information, a coven is a collection of earth witches who work together. There's no real term for a family of vampires, but call them coven and they won't be pleased. Might even get a little violent, if you catch my drift."

"So you stick to the descendant of vampires story then?" Montague put it, rolling his eyes.

"Look up Aurelius in the library, you moron. That should give you a hint, if the books here are anywhere close to up-to-date. It's not just a pretty name."

With a parting sneer, Connor used every ounce of supernatural grace he possessed to stand fluidly, and stalk out of the room. After a conversation like that he needed to hit something, and as satisfying as breaking some of his housemates into little pieces sounded, it really would make an awful mess.

Gryffindor Common Room, 2am

Harry crawled through the portrait hole, wincing every time his injured hand had to support his weight. He'd survived a week of detentions, but the words carved into his hand had stopped fading and were now oozing blood. He sighed in relief when he stood in the common room, and started up the stairs when he nearly ran into someone.

"Harry? Is that you?" the familiar voice of his youngest Aunt asked, and he looked up to see her frowning at him. He realised with a start that he must have been kept so late that she and her friends had already come back from patrol, as her face was showing a few fresh cuts and bruises, as well a long mark that traveled down her neck under the collar of what looked like a borrowed man's shirt.

"What were you doing in the boy's dorm?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't ask why he was so late.

"Nix was stabbed in the side on patrol, I was patching him up. Luckily none of his roommates woke up, can you imagine the fuss they'd – " she answered, before stopping dead. Her forehead scrunched up, and she sniffed the air, before looking at him in concern, "Harry, are you bleeding? What happened?"

Harry automatically tensed, hiding his hand behind his back and lying, "Slipped, think I must have grazed my knee or something."

"That's too fresh and too strong to be a skinned knee, kiddo. Come on, sit down," she implored, dropping onto one end of a nearby sofa. Harry sat down, and watched in confusion as she called for a house-elf, who promptly appeared, disappeared and reappeared with two bowls. She passed him one, and he saw that it was full of ice cream. He stared dumbly at it for a minute, before she raised an eyebrow and said:

"Eat up, kiddo."

"Weren't you just trying to interrogate me?"

"Harry, me forcing you to talk to me won't going to help, not really. You need to come to me on your own, otherwise you'll never really trust me. So, ice cream," she shrugged. "Whenever you're down, or frustrated, or I notice something's going on, we'll have ice cream. Whether or not you tell me anything is entirely up to you, but at least this way you and I will have some time together and you'll have chance to confide in me, or ask questions of me. Don't think I don't know you worry about us patrolling."

Harry nodded, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream and eating it slowly.

"You aren't going to make me tell you?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Nope. You need someone you can trust, not someone who throws orders at you. I'm not going to try and take over your life, Harry. You know yourself well enough to know your limits, and you're not a baby. You don't need me chasing after you. But you might need someone to listen."

Harry smiled slightly, and settled in to eat his ice cream. Dawn continued eating slowly, knowing that he probably wouldn't open up tonight, or even very soon. But hopefully he'd let her treat his wound, or even just accept a first aid kit from her, provided she didn't ask too many questions. And she was more than happy to have random late night ice cream sessions with her nephew.


	5. The View from the Window

Pain. Bright light. Pain. Screams. Pain. And then the high, cold voice, near-laughing the dreaded words –

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, hand clutching at his forehead. The hated famous scar was burning white hot, and Harry's head snapped around the room, unconsciously searching for the owner of that voice. His tense posture relaxed minutely once he'd scoured the dorm – he was safe, he was at Hogwarts. Voldemort was nowhere near him. _But,_ a traitorous corner of Harry's mind whispered, _Voldemort was near someone. Someone had been tortured that night, someone had been killed, murdered – while you watched._ He repressed a shudder, guilt pooling in his stomach. He listened for a moment to the snores of his friends, before shaking his head. There would be no more sleep for him that night, he knew. Checking his alarm clock, he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. It was six in the morning, so the common room would be empty, and he could at least move around without waking anyone. He paused when his hand knocked the small piece of metal and plastic on his bedside table. How Dawn had managed to make such an advanced piece of Muggle technology work at Hogwarts, he didn't know, and he'd avoided mentioning it to Hermione and Ron in case it sent his female best friend into a research frenzy. She'd told him to call if he needed her, any time of the day or night, but… part of Harry still shied away from anything that would inconvenience his newfound family. His childhood had left him all too aware that adults didn't like being woken, and Dawn got so little sleep as it was… He wouldn't wake her, he decided. He was fifteen years old, and it was just a nightmare. He didn't need to bother her with this.

Despite his resolve, he scooped up the mobile phone and dropped it into his dressing gown pocket. Just in case, he reasoned. And Dawn had told him to always keep it with him. He picked up his dream diary for Trelawney, hoping to make up a few more ridiculous omens of death and disaster before breakfast. He'd just about caught up with his other work, but the dream diary was still a bit lacking. He padded silently down the tower stairs, his thick woolen socks muffling all noise as he made his way into the common room. He stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, spotting the outline of a person curled on one of the window seats, and pulled back into the shadows, listening intently.

"A brighter day is coming my way, yes tomorrow will be kinder…"

The soft voice continued over the hesitant guitar. Harry peaked out from the stairwell, not wanting to disturb whoever it was singing. He started when the voice spoke more loudly, and realised that the music had ended.

"You can come out, Harry. I know you're there."

He flushed involuntarily, and stepped out in to the dim room. His aunt was curled around a rather worn looking guitar on the window seat, leaning back against the wall. She patted the free half of the window seat and he accepted the unspoken offer, settling down as she leaned the guitar against the edge of the seat.

"What's up?" she asked, tilting her head to study him.

"Nothing," he replied hurriedly. "Just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, thought I'd, uh, do some homework."

"Uh huh," she replied, raising one eyebrow skeptically. "'Cause, y'know, that's what sane people do…"

"What about you?" Harry asked, noticing how far from her usual self she looked. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and it showed just how tired she looked. In fact, she looked entirely too tired and fragile in that moment, and it threw Harry. He was used to his aunt – both her and her sister – looking as if the world held nothing to faze them. All of a sudden, it struck him – was it more that there was nothing _left_ that would shake them? He felt as if he was looking into the eyes of an old woman, much older that his aunt's seventeen years. But then Harry felt like that himself sometimes – as if his classmates were all just so much younger, like he was an old man in a teenager's body. As if he lost all traces of childish innocence a very long time ago.

"Can't sleep," she shrugged. "Weird dreams."

"Me too," Harry nodded, glancing over at the fire.

"So, homework, huh?" she asked, a trace of a grin lighting her face.

"Divination," he replied, wrinkling up his nose, "we're supposed to keep a dream diary."

"And you aren't really sure that you want the world's best dragonfly impersonator analyzing the contents of your subconscious?"

"Not really, no." Harry suppressed a shudder. He really didn't want Trelawney knowing that his dreams were full of killing curses and Voldemort. She'd probably announce that he was fated to follow in his footsteps.

"So what do you do?" Dawn asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Make it up," Harry confessed, grinning. "She always predicts my untimely death, and so if I put in loads of dreams of my own painful and imminent death I get decent marks. Ron and I both do it."

"Hey, sounds like a plan. If nothing else, it'll keep you amused," Dawn smirked, thinking of her own few lessons with the fraud of the North Tower.

"Dawn?" Harry asked, slightly hesitantly. Even after realising that adults shouldn't treat children the way the Dursleys had treated him when he stayed at the Burrow and saw how a real family worked, he still didn't like to ask questions. That had been the number one rule at the Dursleys, even higher than blame Harry for anything that went wrong, not drawing any attention to himself, or not show Dudley up. He supposed it was ingrained in him.

"Mmhmm," she replied absently, redirecting her gaze back to him.

"Where did you get a guitar?"

She gave an odd half-smile, before answering, "It's Nix's old one. He shrunk it down to fit in his trunk, as we weren't really sure if it was allowed. I snuck up and 'borrowed' it when I realised I wasn't sleeping tonight. I'm nowhere near as good as he is, though."

She was pulling at a thread in her oversized jumper as she spoke. In the firelight, Harry saw the litany of fresh scratches and cuts that covered her hands, one stretching up her wrist and out of sight.

"How do you do it?" he asked without thinking, a frown puckering his forehead.

"Do what?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"Go out at night, fight, get hurt, and then do it all again the next night. Don't you get sick of it?"

"Sometimes," she answered, face softening as she turned to look out the window. "But I don't think I could ever just stop."

"Why not?" he prompted. The feeling was familiar, the will to keep struggling against whatever tried to hurt you, but Harry had fought for his friends or his own life. A small part of him couldn't imagine being prepared to put his life on the line for nameless, faceless strangers.

"Because I know what's out there," she replied simply. "and I know how to fight it. I'll never be able to stop knowing, and well, I don't think I could just hide from that. I'm strong enough to fight, so I do."

"I just… I can't imagine it. I mean, I know Voldemort's out there, and I know he'll try and kill me when he gets the chance. And I know I'll fight him when he tries. But I couldn't… I don't know if I could cope if that was every night," Harry confessed, looking down at his knees. He had pulled them up to his chest as he spoke, arms wrapping around them protectively.

Dawn frowned, hating that someone so young could state so calmly that a crazed mass-murderer was after them. She wanted to tell him it wasn't true, that he wouldn't go through the fear that had been her life at his age, but she knew she couldn't lie to him like that. Instead, she said:

"Look out of the window, Harry."

He turned and took in the view. The sun was just beginning to rise over the grounds, pale golden light making the lake shine.

"I see that, and I know I made it. The world spins on, and I made it through the night to see another sunrise. And I know that because of me, so did people I probably wouldn't recognize on the street. They wouldn't recognize me either, but – they live. They'll live, and be happy, and have children, and make other people happy. Their light continues, and spreads light over the people they love. And sure, maybe I am putting myself in harm's way. But given who and what I am, I'm always going to be a target. So why spend my life looking over my shoulder? I may as well live my life to the full, may as well fight for my life, and in reality, the more evil I take down means one less thing gunning for me and mine. Hiding would mean leaving the people I love in danger – you, Buffy, Will, Xan, Giles, Faith, Andy, Nix, Connor, Lo, Jordy. So I fight. And the sun comes up again."

"When can we start training again?"

The words came out before Harry could prevent them. He'd asked for training as soon as he'd moved into to Council headquarters, but since returning to school the sessions had stopped. His first week in Hogwarts had been eventful, and he had the odd feeling that he didn't know half of what had really gone on. He immediately began to clarify his outburst, not noticing Dawn's assessing gaze.

"I need to be able to protect myself. Something always happens, and I'm always scraping by on luck, or with other people's help. I need to be able to fight, to know what I'm doing. I can't keep winging it, I – "

"Harry."

Dawn cut across his hurried explanation, holding up a hand.

"I get it," she said, smiling faintly. "I've been meaning to ask if you were still interested, and sit down to hash out a schedule. The only issue is Umbridge."

Harry scowled. "So I can't learn to fight because of the Toad?"

"Who said anything about can't?" Dawn replied, a wicked grin lighting her face. "Just means we're going to have to be sneaky."

…

Buffy looked up at the wrought iron gates. It was odd to see them chained, as even though they had been kept shut as the first war began to affect the wizarding world, her parents had never even considered chaining the intricate gates. Her eyes swept over the pair of statues that flanked the drive – stone lions, each with the front paw nearest the gates resting atop the Potter crest. It had been far too many years since she'd stood here, and she deeply regretted that her brother and sister-in-law had chosen a small holiday cottage to hide in, rather than trusting in the wards that had kept the Potters safe for centuries. In all the years that the family had lived and loved, violent death had never visited the family estate. No invader had ever made it in, no attack had succeeded. But Voldemort's servants had somehow infiltrated a number of the old estates, Buffy rationalized with a sigh. It was only natural that James and Lily began to doubt the security of the ancient wards, and so decided to retreat to a property that barely anyone knew about.

Shaking her head to clear her melancholy thoughts, the Slayer stepped forward, placing her wand hand on the muzzle of the nearest guardian. She murmured the family motto, and felt a sharp prick as the statue tested her blood. Normally the combination of motto and her magical signature would have been enough as she had been keyed into the wards since birth, but as James, then the Head of the Family, had placed the estate into stasis, to remain untouched until the family returned to claim it, her claim to the bloodline needed to be proven. It was ancient magic, now thoroughly illegal – ensuring, of course, that no new family could acquire a seat such as those enjoyed by the old lines. The pain was fleeting, and Buffy watched as the chains on the gates fell away. The gates opened for her without so much as a creak, and she began the long walk up the drive.

As she drew close, she saw the rows of windows, previously dark and empty, light up to give the sprawling manor house a welcoming feel. She reached the steps up to the front door, and when she began to ascend them, the great oak door swung open in welcome, revealing the familiar entrance hall. She had vaguely expected dustsheets to cover everything, or at least a thick layer of dust to coat the surfaces, but it was as if the occupants had only stepped out for a walk a minute ago, not been absent for nearly a decade and a half. The door swung shut behind her, and she paused, turning around in the entrance hall, taking in her perfectly preserved childhood home. For a second she fancied she could almost see the ghosts of herself and her twin playing in the halls with their friends.

She sighed, shutting her eyes. James was gone. The mental connection that had existed between them had been silent since they had parted, with both siblings promising not to open it until they had news of Voldemort's defeat. She had expected to feel something, if she was honest. It didn't seem plausible that the inexplicable link could be so brutally severed without her feeling a thing. She should surely feel lonely in her head, or as if something was missing. A part of her felt guilty, knowing that she had been unaware of her own twin's death for so many years. They'd always believed that they would know instantly if the other died, but apparently that had been a childish folly. In truth, she had had no idea that James was irrevocably gone from her mind, and had believed that the Wizarding world would still be locked in civil war when she had contacted Professor Dumbledore. It was the reason she had chosen to address the letter to him at Hogwarts, thinking that even if Dumbledore was no longer Headmaster his successor would remember her, and Hogwarts represented the one constant she could depend upon. She been stunned to discover that the world she had left had been altered so completely. She'd had no idea of what her baby nephew had achieved, no idea that her family been torn apart. She muffled a sob – it seemed weak somehow, to be grieving for her lost brother so long after the fact. But to her, James had only died that summer, along with all chances of the reunions she had imagined.

"Mistress Elizabeth?" a high-pitched voice piped up. "Mistress has come home at last?"

"Mistress is alone? Where is Master James and Miss Lily? And little Master Harry and Miss Dawn?"

Buffy opened her eyes, looking around for the owners of the voices. Her gaze settled on a pair of house-elves, dressed in the livery that they had worn for as long as she could remember. Other families preferred to leave their house-elves in rough smocks fashioned out of pillow cases or tea towels to ensure that they could never be mistaken for clothes, but the Potters had discovered that the best way around the clothes issue was to present each house-elf with a bolt of fabric, allowing the elf to fashion their own copy of the uniform. The elves were smart and neatly dressed, without the family ever having presented them with a garment. Buffy recognized the elf on the left as Tobb, the Head Elf appointed by her father, who had served as a butler for the estate. He had not aged visibly since she had set eyes on the elf last – she remembered with a shock that placing the house in stasis also caused the elves to freeze in time, falling into a magical sleep until their masters returned. The little elf wore a pair of dark grey trousers and a grey-purple tunic edged with the gold braid that denoted his position in the household, and his feet were bare. Next to him was Mitsy, the housekeeper and head cook. Her simple dress was the same shade as Tobb's tunic, and she wore a white apron around her waist. Her feet were also bare, and a grey-purple cloth cap covered her head. A length of gold braid decorated the band of her apron, marking her out as the senior female elf. Both elves were looking up at her in awe, having not known who would be returning to the house.

"Hello, Tobb, Mitsy. Yes, I've come home, and Dawn and Harry will be here for Christmas."

The two elves were nearly bouncing at the thought of Christmas coming to the estate once more, and Buffy hated that she was going to have to tell them the horrible news.

"James and Lily… won't be coming home. They…"

Buffy fought back the tears that stung at her eyes. Mitsy gave a low cry, and Tobb rocked back on his heels, as the realization that not only was Mistress Elizabeth opening up the estate alone, but that they were directly bonded to her as Head of the Family.

"Tobb will tell the other elves, Mistress," Tobb mumbled, his ears drooping.

"Thank you," Buffy murmured. She swiped angrily at the moisture that had clung to her eyelashes. Now was not the time for a breakdown, not when the estate needed seeing to. She took a calming breath before saying, "Could you show me around, please? It's been such a long time, I could do with looking over the place."

The two elves nodded, perking up slightly. They were eager to show their Mistress that the house and gardens were ready to welcome the family, and Tobb began to lead Buffy around the manor, while Mitsy popped out of the hall to prepared the rest of the elves for presentation to the Mistress.

…

Buffy leaned back onto her old bed. She had refused outright to take up residence in the master suite – she knew full well that she was more of a regent than a true head of the family. Whenever Harry was ready after he came of age, she would hand over the reigns of the family, and so the suite was his if he wanted it. Secretly, she suspected he wouldn't want it, not now. She also knew that her reasons for turning down the suite were not entirely based on her realistic view of the situation. In her mind, it was still her parents' room, and she knew James had felt the same way when he and Lily had moved in after their wedding. Their mother and father had both been gone by the time of the wedding, but she knew it had only been the long talk with his mentor, Frank Longbottom, that had allowed James to see the logic in moving into the suite, especially the increased proximity to the nursery ready for their future children.

She had immediately authorized designs for Dawn's room to be drawn up for consideration, as her room was still fit for a three year old rather than the seventeen year old she was. Harry had still been in the nursery when he was last resident in the estate, and yet she had paused before designating a room for him. She had eventually decided allow him to decide, wondering whether her nephew would prefer to occupy James' childhood room given how few links he had to his parents. A permanent room for Remus was already being worked upon, using the guest room he had preferred as a guide. Sirius already had a room on the family corridor, given that he had moved in as an extra son the summer after sixth year.

Buffy pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. This place was exactly as she remembered, and her heart ached knowing that things would never be exactly the same. A sob escaped her, and she hugged her legs tighter. She hadn't realised how much she'd been banking on the family she'd left behind still being here on her return, and coming home had only confirmed what she had discovered during the summer. James would never again burst into her room without knocking, and she muffled a half-sob, half-laugh. How dearly had she wished for him to stop when they were young? She'd give anything for her brother to be annoying her now.

The Slayer rose from her bed, turned to the window and stood gazing out over the estate. Things may not ever be the same again, but she would ensure that laughter filled the halls of the Potter estate once again. A split-second decision made, she headed for the Head's study. She had a letter write, and then she needed to begin the preparations for the Christmas period. It had been far too long since happiness had graced the manor, and Buffy would not let it wait another year.


End file.
